Fix It or Pull It: Confessions of a Former Field Technician

By Steven J. Filippini

From the first time he strapped on a toolbelt to the last time he required first aid, Steve was involved with every aspect of the alarm industry and lived to tell about it. Throughout his twenty-five years in the field, Steve dealt with angry pets, furious consumers and more than his share of the insect world while providing a much needed but usually under appreciated service to his customers. His insight into human behavior forces us to take a good look at how the working class really deals with you, the customer, and how they maintain their sense of humor throughout most of it.

Fix It or Pull It provides answers to questions like, what really goes on in the food preparation area of a restaurant? How far is too far when pulling a practical joke? What happens when rookie meets veteran and who is usually the victor when they do?

Whether it's alarm systems, telephone providers or other consumer based product offerings, your service technician is there to save the day. Steve brings you the human side of the business and keeps you laughing along the way.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Jan 18, 2004
• ISBN: 9780595756247

Steven J. Filippini

With over 25 years field experience working with alarm systems and other related services, Steve offers his own insight into human behavior and provides amusement along the way. Steve lives with his wife and three children in Eagan, Minnesota where he spends his time writing about things that make him twitch.

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All Rights Reserved © 2004 by Steven J. Filippini

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or by any information storage retrieval system, without the written permission of the publisher.

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ISBN: 0-595-75624-7

ISBN-13: 978-0-5957-5624-7

Contents

Introduction

Who’s The New Kid?

William Tell and the Six-Foot Drill Bit

Oh, The Things I have Seen

I Never Believed Those Stories Were True…

Things That Go Bump In The Day

Is Smoke A Bad Sign?

Practical Jokes

Graveyard Shift

All Backed Up And Nowhere To Go

Surprise, Look Who’s Here!

Wild Kingdom

Initiation 101

Covering Your Tracks

Human Insects

My Truck, My Home

People Are Strange By Nature

Do You Have A Good Medical Plan?

Dr. Ting

The Electronic Poltergeist

When You Invade The Castle They Call Home

Waterfalls Should Remain Outdoors

Window Foil Is More Than A Decoration

One Night At The Races

The Face Of A Child

Don’t Eat Where You Work

Home Is Where They Accept Your Credit Card

Will You Accept This Call?

My Alarm System Is Missing

Meeting Your New Partner

They Don’t Pay Me Enough

I’m Sotally Tober

Only A Pager Away

Prescribed Vacations

I Can Hear You Breathe

When Both Feet Fit With Room To Spare

Maturity Is Overrated

Science Fiction Technology

Customer Satisfaction

Whale Snot

Clang

Padding The Resume

Past Tense To Present Reflections

Please Stop Spitting On My Shoes

In Conclusion…

To Ducky, Gary, and Old John.

You made me what I am today, and I forgive you.

Introduction

I’m sitting at my desk with my head resting in my hands and my elbows positioned on the blotter away from my chest. The slow shaking from left to right should be a sign for anyone watching me that this has not been a good day. Outside my office door, I have eight technical support people answering the phones and walking our field techs through one problem after another. They do their job well, but they are not as polished as I had hoped. In fact, I should have ten technicians stationed at the command pod, but I just sent two of them on a walk to relieve some of the tension they were bottling up inside.

Ten minutes ago, I was clearing up some paperwork when they both entered my office, quite agitated and wound up. I could tell something was wrong by the way they were staring at me. The first tech in front of me was twitching and his voice had slipped into a high-pitched Barney Fife mode. The second tech was staring very hard at the first one with serious concentration, not blinking, with eyes that were narrowed to a slight slit. As was my way, I waited for one of them to speak first. That way I could gauge my response without over-reacting to whatever it was that brought them to me.

Make him stop, Barney whined.

Not a sound came from the other man standing there.

Please make him stop!

Stop what? I asked, quickly losing what little patience God gave me as a child.

He’s trying to make me spontaneously combust!

Before I could respond, Malph grunted at me. Stay outta this one, Flip. Don’t get in my way.

Barney would not look at Malph, instead he stood there pleading with his eyes for me to take control.

I sat back in my chair and propped my feet up. Please tell me you’re not asking me to tell Malph to stop staring at you, because if you are, I’m gonna lose it.

Barney was well beyond stressed out. I truly believe that had I not done something, dams would burst and the tears would be flowing. Barney had shed a few already that week and I wasn’t in the mood for any more.

Barney, I suggest you go for a walk and relax before you blow a brain vessel or something.

But,…

And if you are unable to play nice in the sandbox, one of you will have to go home without pay.

Barney stared at me for a moment before walking out of my office with his head hanging down.

I waited for a few moments before I turned my attention to Malph. And so help me God, if even a wisp of smoke starts curling off his head, you’ll be in a world of trouble.

Malph dropped his shoulders and sighed. He was a bruiser and could have easily popped my head like a grape had he wanted to, but instead he walked out and into the hall, turning in the opposite direction Barney had gone.

And that’s where you found me, wondering how I got here. Twenty-five years in the alarm industry and I ended up here in charge of the Romper Room ward at my current place of employment.

I lift my head away from my hands and sit back in my chair. I drop my head back until I’m staring at the ceiling and let out a heavy sigh. Someone once told me that everything you do in your life has purpose and plays heavily at how you will end up when the final bell rings. I wish I could remember who told me that so I could dump my very cold cup of coffee over his head.

As I mentioned before, I have been a member of the alarm/security industry for over a quarter century (sounds longer when worded that way), which is to say that well over half of my life has been dedicated to this line of work.

I have been fortunate enough to work with some of the best minds in the business, each of who would tell you so. I have also wiped plenty of drool from the chins of those who should have considered a career in organ grinding instead.

Nevertheless, all of the people I have worked with over the years have left some kind of mark on me, not counting the bruises on my throat when I went too far on a practical joke. They are truly responsible for how I turned out. They assisted in molding me into the person I am today. Oh sure, my folks and family played a small role along the way, but I don’t want to hold it against them.

No, I would rather address the core of my influence, the creators of my personal being, the reason I am who I am today. I am here to place blame at the root of my evil.

But before I can do that, I need to explain where I came from and how I got here. I need to take you on a little tour of the security industry, with no apologizes to anyone who may recognize themselves along the way. It’s time to cleanse the soul and bare it all if I am ever to lead a normal life. Prisoners are not to be taken and as if this wasn’t unsettling enough, you may even know a few of these folks along the way.

You decide.

I have had to deal with Managers who were not capable of effectively leading anyone and Supervisors whose only goal in life was trying to become Managers. I have scoured my hands and arms to the bone every time a sales-weasel brushed up against me or insisted on shaking my hand. I have rubbed elbows with peons who did all the work and rarely received the recognition they deserved.

My job description and responsibilities have changed over the years. I was once called a Wire Puller whose only purpose in life was to fetch something for the senior technician on the job site. I continued to climb the evolution ladder and even made it to Field Engineer. I trudged on and eventually surprised others when I earned the title of Senior Product Specialist and Supervisor of a technical support help desk.

Each position I held taught me something that helped me advance to the next level. Every person I worked with showed me a better way to do things (or not do things) that helped get me to where I am today.

Over the years I have worked for and contracted with several alarm companies. Some were small enough to work out of the trunk of their cars and others were listed as one of the largest in the country. I have worked with over eighty-five local-presence branches around the country and even supported a few locations outside the continental U.S. with a couple well beyond that. The stories you are about to read are true (as far as you know) and I intentionally mixed up the time-line sequence to avoid making it obvious as to who it is I am referring to (my attorney suggested that one).

I also mixed up the action and scenarios to protect the obvious as much as possible. The main theme to each story remains intact and the stories themselves are historically accurate.

As each of these incidents occurred, I filed them into the back corners of my memory. It took a great deal of effort to recall some of these despite the therapy session’s I endured to keep them buried. Sometimes my friends had to remind me of a few golden oldies and sometimes I woke up screaming in the middle of the night when a few other incidents resurfaced.

My mother used to say I should have gone into stand-up comedy with some of the stuff I have seen and retold over the years. I’m hoping this is the next best thing.

Now, without further delay, here are some of the things that make me twitch to this day.

Who’s The New Kid?

I was a nai’ve lad of sixteen when I entered the alarm industry on June 15, 1978. I had just finished my junior year of high school when I was offered a summer job that involved pulling cables for a small security company. The pay was only three dollars an hour and I was classified as a Contract Employee. This way they could pay me under the table and avoid any income tax hassles. My official title was Gopher. Go for this, go for that, you know how it is. Go get my coffee, go get my briefcase, and my favorite, Go away ya little s**t. I am a quick learner and had a lot to absorb. Still, the basic rules were simple enough:

First, I wasn’t allowed to comment on many issues because, hey, I was only sixteen and what do sixteen-year-olds know anyway?

Second, I couldn’t drive yet so the music selection on the radio wasn’t up for discussion.

Third, I would eat at McDonalds every day for three months and like it.

Fourth, if a pretty girl made eyes at one of the senior technicians, I was to leave for a while and not come back until they were done. Done doing what? I used to ask them. They would just shake their heads in pity as they walked away. As I mentioned before, I was very naive back then.

For the record, I never had to leave the room because no one ever made eyes at any of them. I did eat at McDonalds for several months at a stretch and I ate more cheeseburgers and Big Macs than I care to remember. In addition to my list of responsibilities, I fetched my fair share of coffee. I knew how everyone took their Java and when they expected refills. I knew what kind of doughnuts they liked. I knew when I was supposed to bring them to the shop.

I also had an edge over my co-workers that I rarely relied on. My uncle was the V.P. and he had hired me because he thought I had potential and not because my mom asked him to.

Honest.

Anyone who knows me knows that I had an addiction to coffee. I had been known to drink a full pot of coffee before going to bed at night, every night. Regardless of the caffeine levels screaming through my veins, I slept like a baby.

Of course my brain was grinding at two hundred miles an hour and the intensity of some of those dreams could very well have ended up in magazine columns.

Needless to say, I wasn’t always this way. I was maybe five or six years old when my Grandpa Joe gave me my first cup of coffee. It was half coffee and half cream and sugar. I enjoyed it tremendously and I remember the colors in the kitchen were quite vivid that morning. I don’t believe my mom was very happy when she heard about it. But, if she was upset about it, she never said anything to me.

As I grew older, I developed a craving for coffee that soon controlled my life. If I was late for school and needed some form of breakfast before I left, I would pour a cup of coffee over a bowl of Grapenuts cereal. Once I had my bowl of hot cereal, I was set for the day. It was also around that time I developed a minor tic, but I’m sure the coffee had nothing to do with it.

When I started working in the alarm industry, I quickly realized most of the technicians I met were a breed all by themselves. It was then I knew I was going to fit right in. Blue jeans, work-shirts, tennis shoes (well, work-boots but I could never get comfortable while wearing them) and no ties were the dress code requirements of the day. The only people wearing ties were sales-weasels, which meant the technicians didn’t have to. In case you’re wondering why that was, I only need to ask if anyone reading this has ever heard of a tech-weasel?

I didn’t think so.

If field technicians had to wear ties, I would have opted for a position as head deep fryer at the local McDonalds instead. I ate enough of their product to advance to chief food taster if the deep fryer lost its appeal, but as it turned out, I was safe to pursue the current vocation of my choosing.

Field techs swore up a blue streak and even though I don’t quite know what that means, I knew it was a lot. I was hearing words that weren’t found in any dictionary I had ever read. Come to think of it, that was the beauty of the job. So what if you weren’t allowed to swear at home or at school, do it at work instead. Hell, make up a few new words while you’re at it. And if that wasn’t enough incentive to embrace the new vocation, a bonus requirement came with the job. You were always expected to drink lots of coffee.

I soon graduated from the prestigious title of Grunt to Wire Puller. I still did the same thing, but my title was improving. Since I still wasn’t driving, I was dropped off at an account by one of the senior technicians where I was tasked to work on something while they ran errands and bought coffee. At the end of the day, I was picked up and shuttled back to the shop.

At the time, I looked several years younger than my actual age, which didn’t help my challenge of winning the customers over. People who purchase security systems are a nervous animal anyway. They’re always uptight and agitated. Being young and not as mature as I could have been, I just happened to draw the twitchiness out of them more than the other technicians did.

My customers were nervous every time I walked into their business with a hammer drill in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. They often freaked out when I started boring holes into their new metal doorframes. They winced every time I powered up a control panel for fear that smoke and fire would soon be erupting from the utility room in their office. They would assign office personnel to follow me around to keep an eye on me (and never the cute ones either). They also taught me a phrase that follows me to this day.

Fix it or pull it.

If I can’t resolve the problem, then they don’t want the damn thing anymore and I should remove it. At the time I didn’t know it was a phrase of frustration and empty threats, I thought it was a request.

I was at an outdoor automobile parts facility (junkyard) one summer afternoon and the lady running the place didn’t like me. She was rude and condescending and she wasn’t very attractive either (I admit that I’m shallow, which removes the subject from further discussion). This put my tolerance regarding her attitude towards me at an all time low. I had never been at the account before and I was instructed by her to Fix it or pull it. I knew that many technicians had tried before me and what her system really needed was a serious overhaul that she wasn’t willing to pay for.

I about thought her request for a few moments before I pulled out my wire cutters and proceeded to hack away at the cables that went into the control panel. The lady freaked and demanded to know what I was doing. I nonchalantly responded with, Just doing what you asked me to do.

Strange, they didn’t care who my uncle was. I was young and fearless and felt that people who were rude to me should be treated equally rude right back. The excuse about it being a request didn’t fly very well either when my boss asked me why I did it. I ended up repairing my handiwork on overtime, without pay.

My attitude slowly changed over time because it had to. I wasn’t making any money to brag about and I needed to improve my people skills if I wanted that to improve. It took a while, but I learned that I needed to allow the customers the opportunity to vent at me. I learned it was part of the job. I found it interesting that I was never able to visit them when they were happy campers. I only got to see them when they were unhappy and agitated about their alarm or something else.

New customers, it seemed, were always people who had just recently been robbed. My job was to help them out. We provided peace of mind. We were the good guys on white horses in shiny armor. Service calls, it appeared, took the gleam off the metal coverings we wore. Service calls were always scheduled for people who were awaken at three A.M. because their alarm was going off downtown and they needed to respond to it. Our alarm monitoring operators had a special knack at calling the one customer who drank more coffee and smoked more cigarettes than we did, and always right after they fell asleep. Pissed off and tired was never a good combination and I always ended up with the worst of them.

One other thing I learned, and it goes against the laws of good business, was that the customer is not always right.

Now, I know it goes against everything customer service specialists teach you and even Dear Abby would argue it, but it’s true. The customer may think they’re always right, and you may even let them think that they are, but deep down, we know that they aren’t. It didn’t matter to me who they were, or how important they believed themselves to be. They still put their pants on one leg at a time, just like you and me. The only difference was how expensive those pants happen to be.

The type of customers I just mentioned are very common and mostly boring to listen to. I always appreciated the customer who kept you guessing and left you shaking your head in disbelief. I heard a joke recently that quite nicely summed up my favorite breed of customer. It goes something like this:

A young person entered a doctor’s office and complained of being sore all over. To prove their point, the person touched their arm and winced in pain. Then the leg was touched, again a wince. Finally, the chest was touched and a grimace of pain swept over their face. The doctor examined the person and quickly determined that the person was suffering from a broken finger.

A funny joke if you have a sense of humor but it’s very true. People are thrust into a position where they totally believe in the environment they’ve created for themselves where logic has been cast aside. It may not seem so funny when you have to deal with these people day in and day out, but they too serve a purpose.

I mentioned that these people were my favorite to deal with, and truly meant it. At the time I was dealing with them, I failed to see the humor they brought to the table. Today I admire them for being who they were when everyone else was striving to be someone they were not.

William Tell and the Six-Foot Drill Bit

Anyone who has wielded a drill motor knows the awesome power behind such a small electrical device. You can create rivers and streams in any room of the house by simply tapping into a half-inch water pipe. You can kill power to several homes on a street if you happen to hit a power line at precisely the right spot. You can split the heartiest of wood planks and posts in a matter of seconds and create powerful wisps of smoke from any surface you happen to come in contact with. All it takes is a little attachment called the drill bit.

Drill bits come in all shapes and sizes. There are masonry drill bits that are designed to bore through concrete and brick. There are wood bits that are designed to bore through (you guessed it) wood. There are drill bits designed to bore through sheet metal and aluminum siding and the list goes on and on.

The drill bits mentioned above are usually two to six inches in length and in the hands of a professional are very useful. Despite their size, they can produce results that benefit mankind. It’s the power that fits in the palm of your hand so you must respect it well.

Adding a four or six foot drill bit intensifies the power even further. You have no idea of the surprises that lie in store for you and the homeowner when this baby is unleashed. When I look back at some of the thing’s I learned while trying to tame this monster, I shudder uncontrollably. The incidents are funny to look back on now, but back then, well, you decide.

An installer was in the basement of a customer’s